


Cloud And Stream And Stone

by printfogey



Category: One Piece
Genre: Ficlet Collection, Multi, Rare Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-12 12:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 11,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/printfogey/pseuds/printfogey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Umbrella collection for One Piece ficlets and shortfics that are written from the perspective of non-Strawhat characters. Some are gen, others have pairings or unrequited feelings. Individual ratings and other relevant info will be given at the head of each story.</p><p>NOTE: Now contains a list at the top of Chapter 1 where you can see what character(s) and/or pairings are featured in each ficlet.<br/>NOTE II: No longer updated. Currently considering pruning some chapters and putting them in a second collection. 22 really is a lot, it occurs to me now...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> As noted in the summary, this collection is for ficlets and shortfics from the perspective of non-Strawhat characters in the world of One Piece. The stories are set in the past, present and, sometimes, the future. Each story will be prefaced with the individual rating, spoilers/setting and anything else of note - plus the pairing, for non-gen pieces. Constructive criticism is very much welcome. Though I picked the "Teen and Up Audiences" rating for the collection as a whole to be safe, I believe the majority of the ficlets/shortfics will be more "General Audiences".
> 
> Most of the stories will be under 1,000 words and none will go above 1,500.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations of One Piece was created by Eiichiro Oda and is owned by him and Shueisha Entertainment. Some of them are used here without permission. This fic is written for entertainment purposes only and may not be used for profit.
> 
> List of ficlets with characters and pairings:
> 
> Chapter 1, "In Your Eyes": Yasopp/Banchina  
> Chapter 2, "Stepping In": Bellemere  
> Chapter 3, "Turning Point": Iceburg, regarding Robin, with Nami  
> Chapter 4, "Saviour": Coby/Helmeppo  
> Chapter 5, "Castle": Aisa  
> Chapter 6, "Remembrance": Unnamed inhabitants of Sakura Kingdom  
> Chapter 7, "Shade and Sweet Water": Vivi/Kohza  
> Chapter 8, "Bubbles": Caimie, with Hachi and Shakky  
> Chapter 9, "Introduction": Garp and baby Ace  
> Chapter 10, "Fanboys": Coby and Helmeppo  
> Chapter 11, "One Hour Left To Breathe": Kuina, Hiruluk, Bellemere, Tom, Banchina, Nico Olvia, Going Merry, and Ace  
> Chapter 12, "Get Out While You Still Can": Sabo  
> Chapter 13, "Roll the Dice": Paulie  
> Chapter 14, "Soot": Dadan and Makino  
> Chapter 15, "Sabaody Blues": Hachi/Caimie  
> Chapter 16, "Like A Second Skin": Kaku  
> Chapter 17, "In Our Footsteps": AU-Kuina and Ace  
> Chapter 18, "What Now?" AU-Ace  
> Chapter 19, "Comes With The Territory": Sabo, Garp, Ace and Luffy  
> Chapter 20, "Old Karma, Newkama": Bon Clay and Magellan  
> Chapter 21, "Why There Are Legends": An OC (+ a young Kureha, but her identity's not that important here). Concerns a central theme in One Piece  
> Chapter 22, "Where Are You?" - Montblanc Norland
> 
>  **Notes for the first story, "In Your Eyes":** This was originally written for a chaos thread to fill a prompt which was the same as the title (I was unable to think of a new title). This version has been slightly revised and polished, with very helpful feedback from [Tonko](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tonko). Coincidentally, Banchina's interest in tinkering was stolen from a fic by same Tonko, the brilliant ['Til You Feel It All Around You](http://archiveofourown.org/works/92932). 
> 
> Spoilers/setting: One to two years before Usopp is born, probably closer to two. While informed to some slight extent by two panels in Chapter 0 (the "Strong World" bonus chapter), it doesn't really spoil anything beyond Usopp's introduction story.

She'd met him on the street in her hometown.

He had eyes that were sharp enough to meet their target hundreds of metres away, his hands always steady and his aim unerring. She had to wonder, sometimes, what the world looked like from behind those kinds of eyes. Maybe the things around him were too easy to see, in their full, familiar detail: maybe that was what made him look out towards the sea so often, his steps turning towards the harbour when they went for a walk together. Every so often, his eyes would be full of a vague, restless longing, as he looked out at the waves, towards the horizon. 

It had been just a chance meeting. She'd been carrying a bag of scrap-iron; he'd been betting with locals about how far he could shoot. She'd craned her neck to see if the ricochet he'd called would truly come out that way, only to get jostled by another onlooker and dropped her bag, letting everything tumble out. He'd stooped to pick up a ball bearing that had rolled up to his foot, smiling at her and helping her gather the rest. That's how it had started. 

The next day he had come strolling into her brother’s smithy with an eager look and a tightly held purse, somehow not sounding as surprised to see her there as he ought to have been. He had his two friends in tow. They’d been interesting, too: a red-haired young man with a big smile who always wore a straw hat and who didn’t seem old enough to have seen half the strange things he’d talk about so casually; and a slightly older guy with long hair, no eyebrows and a frequent expression of bemused tolerance. Red-Hair claimed they were a pirate crew, just the three of them, while No-Eyebrows didn’t say much one way or the other. The sharpshooter, however, strenuously objected to that, insisting he’d only hitched a ride with them because he was going to go to this town anyway and it was practical; and these guys, he told Banchina, were just way too crazy for him. Apparently he lived not far from here on a neighbouring island, "one of those small quiet places where nothing ever happens," he claimed. But that didn’t explain why he seemed to spend most of his time hanging out with them; or why his eyes would hang on Shanks’ lips whenever the red-haired man told tales to hear from the wider seas out there. 

And yet... and yet, then he would always turn to look at her and his eyes weren’t distant at all anymore; they were warm and close and so direct it almost made her blush. She’d had a few guys show interest in her before, but they always seemed annoyed when she talked about mechanics and clockwork and making new things from scraps of old things. They'd say that was no way for girls to behave. And they usually avoided looking at her nose, too. It had been hard to shake the feeling they were mostly after the dowry her brother the successful blacksmith would likely provide; in any case, none of that had ever led to anything. They never looked at her the way Yasopp did. Yasopp _liked_ her nose, and claimed to have done so from the start: it made it easier for him to describe her when he’d asked around for her name, and it meant she was easy to pick out in a crowd. Since she had got her nose from her father, who had passed away, that pleased her to hear. 

And he honestly seemed to like hearing her talk about her hobby, too. He even brought her odd scraps he'd found from here and there, then watched in fascination as she picked out what to do with them, her self-consciousness soon waning in the keenness of a new project. 

“It’s like you see what nobody else sees,” he’d said once, so abruptly after a long pause that it made her start, then shift her seat and blush as he leaned forward and picked at one of the loose cogwheels, his hand brushing against hers. “I mean, this is just useless scraps to other people. But in your eyes, it’s the start of something really cool. Something new.” 

She’d blinked; she’d never thought of it in that way before. That her odd, unfeminine interest could be something... almost impressive. Before she could think of an answer, he went on in a lower voice, “I think maybe that’s why... maybe that’s why they look better than anybody else’s.” And then _he’d_ blushed, even, before coughing and clearing his throat and explaining in a rush that with “they” he meant her eyes, because they were really pretty, you know, unusually so, and was she free to go out that night?

She hadn't been, that day, but she made sure to be on the following night. 

On the day when he asked her the question, he also said that Shanks had asked him one final time if he wanted to join his crew; and Yasopp had turned him down. Shanks and Ben would leave in the morning on a small sailing boat they had bought.

“I don’t regret it,” he said, his voice sure and clear as he put his arm around her shoulder, sitting on the grassy hillside north of the city. “It’s you I want to be with. And I’ve got a house back home and one third of the loot we earned” – he meant the result of some strange adventure those three had gone on, last week – “so I figure we should be okay. I'm a good hunter, too. Maybe you could even set up a business mending clocks and the like, I don’t think anyone else does that in our village, and I could help. A shop, maybe...” He’d stopped as she put a finger to his lips, then tugged him forward and kissed him, taking care to angle her nose correctly. She’d had a little practice by now. 

“I know you, boy,” she whispered. “You’re a pirate. You're going to follow adventure into the sea one day, I know you will.” Her voice had grown thicker then, but she’d swallowed and kept on, her tone deeper and warmer, “But I’ll take you for as long as I can have you. And I know we’ll be all right. And a repair shop sounds wonderful.”

His eyes had glittered with triumph and relief, even letting out a small whoop of joy that embarrassed her. But even as he held her closer and started kissing her back, mouth and neck and collar bones, even as she, shivering with delight as she started to unbutton his shirt with nimble fingers, she already knew that what he’d said on that day she first met him wasn't true, not the part about Shanks. Though he probably still thought it was. _You may deny it a hundred times, but I’ve seen the way you look at him. Like I see you look at the sea. Right now you’re putting me first, but in your eyes, in your heart, he's still your captain. And one day he will come back and claim you._

But that day wasn’t now. And right now, those warm brown eyes, along with the rest of him, were all hers.


	2. Stepping In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First written for the challenge comm [onepiece_300"](onepiece_300.livejournal.com) for the prompt "Parent", this is a Bellemere-centric fic rated G. It spoils nothing beyond Nami's backstory, where it's set.

The village women told childbirth stories, now and then, when no men were present. To teenage girls, it sounded painful, gruesome, terrifying... but also, sometimes, like the best thing in the world. Like nothing could equal the feeling of having a newborn babe at your breast, flesh of your flesh, after you’d struggled so hard to bring it into the world.

She had listened, and remembered. But unlike the others, it all felt fairly distant to her. Children might come some day, but first she’d go out in the world and have adventures, fighting for justice.

Being a Marine was tougher and less clear-cut than she’d thought. There were corrupt and power-mad officers out there, as well as decent ones, and weak ones; there could be strange orders that were hard to understand from the Headquarters. It was even sickening, at times. Still, she persevered.

Until that one hard battle when so many died, civilians and enemies and fellow Marines; when she was badly wounded. She just lay there, unable to move, seeing nothing but darkness. _Enough, then. Let it end now._

Then there were two children there, all of a sudden. Not even sisters. The older one had found the younger, picked her up. Their parents had all been killed. The children would die soon, too, if nobody did something.

She looked up, looked at the smaller girl’s laughing face, at the older girl trying hard to smile. Saw something more than darkness.

Stumbling to her feet, she started to look around for water, food, shelter. Practical thoughts came back, and with that first step, she had begun their long trek home. 

She went through fire and blood, hunger and cold in order to get them all there. Once, two unknown mothers had once fought hard to bring Nami and Nojiko into the world. Now, Bellemere had to be the one to take over.

It wasn’t a sacrifice. It was the only way back to life.

Sometimes she'd wonder if, being in a way artificial, she was also an unnatural mother who'd never get a true instinct for the job. But then she'd shrugged to herself and figure that all she could do was try the best she could and hope it would turn out okay. And wasn't it the same for everyone, in the end?


	3. Turning Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's taken directly from canon - Water 7, chapter 359, here seen from Iceburg's POV. Originally written for the prompt "Hope" on onepiece-300; slightly revised here. Gen, rated G.

He isn't dead, in the end, even after all that's happened. That brave, strange talking reindeer of a pirate carried him and Paulie out of the burning HQ, then collapsed. Iceburg is weak from smoke and gunshot and full-body clutches; but alive.

To what end, though? The World Government has Nico Robin. Soon, it will have the secret blueprints: their agents are stronger than Franky, who's out there somewhere in the city without any idea the C.P.9 are hunting him. And Aqua Laguna is coming.

He sits up laboriously, breath ragged in his burned chest. He feels dizzy. Over there on the grass, the Strawhat girl with orange hair is stirring. The wind is coming in hard, now; the sky is dark from storm clouds.

There’s little reason for hope, if any. He knows that. But he still owes them the truth.

So then he tells her – in private – what the woman known as a cold, heartless demon told him, believing he would die soon. She would never have revealed her reasons otherwise: that much, he understands. 

He flinches as she slumps forward – is it shock, guilt? Did he just make things worse? - But her whispers are of relief only. And the next moment, she’s on her feet, ready to run away. She only stops and turns when he calls out to her.

Iceburg blinks. There’s much, much more than a glimmer of hope in those eyes: her whole face seems aflame with new-found strength and conviction, as much as her words show. 

He’d thought his truth would do little good but save the honour of a woman going off to die for her friends. But now… 

Paulie wakes up, and wastes no time in ordering the nearby Galley-La men to help the girl and the reindeer. Iceburg quietly gets up on his feet, remembering an old secret named _Rocketman_. Maybe the Strawhats will reach the Puffing Tom in time after all. But if they don't, maybe there’s still another way...


	4. Saviour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Coby/Helmeppo ficlet for the topic "The One and Only" at onepieceyaoi100. Mild PG. No real spoilers beyond Coby's and Helmeppo's cover arc (or Water 7 appearance).

It was just embarrassing.

Helmeppo was supposed to be good at keeping his composure, getting back at slights later in various underhanded ways. So what was the deal with clenching his fists so hard they grew white, then exploding at some jerkass recruit who made fun of Coby’s attitude a little too much, calling it naïve and goody-two-shoes? It wasn’t like Helmeppo didn’t needle his friend about that stuff himself, fairly often.

And why react so strongly when a fleeting rumour made him think Coby would get transferred away while Helmeppo wouldn’t, sudden panic making him shaky and nauseous, not to mention the overwhelming flood of relief when the rumour was proven false? A tough, up-and-coming Marine shouldn’t be so emotional and so dependent on a single person, even when they were your best friend.

It probably was dumb, but he couldn’t stop that feeling – the sense that out of all the people in the world, Coby was the only one who truly trusted and believed in **him** , Helmeppo (Garp seemed to believe in his _potential_ , which was honouring and terrifying enough yet not quite the same thing) - the only one he, in return, felt he could fully trust and throw everything away for, if he truly had to. 

And as long as Coby was there, looking at him like he had some real worth, he felt he could go on and act as if he thought so, too. Somehow, that had become the ground he stood on.

When Coby first took that extra step beyond friendship, one hesitant hand touching his collarbone and moving upwards slowly, what Helmeppo first felt hadn’t been joy or lust, but fear – fear he’d screw this up and lose what was most important. But he'd managed to take a deep breath and follow in the wake of Coby’s courage. Again.


	5. Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aisa-centric gen fic set at least a month after the end of the Skypiea arc. Rated G, this was first written for onepiece_300 for the prompt "Shelter" and has been slightly revised since.

The rain kept falling on the great leaves, making a great rustling sound on the roof of driftwood and plaited leaves of her treehouse. Aisa pulled up her knees and leaned her chin on them, looking out into the rainy, misty green world, tired and content. 

It wasn’t that she minded being in Shandora, in the great old city her people had fought so hard for. Both Shandians and Skypieans lived there now, but still there were plenty of empty old buildings – plenty of room to explore and play and just look at. She hadn’t grown tired of that, and she hadn’t stopped feeling proud of her ancestors (and bragging to Skypiean kids about them); nor about the sight as well as the sound of the great golden bell of Shandora. 

But there were always so many people around, so many voices in Aisa’s head in that direction. That wasn't _bad_ , but… sometimes she wanted to be by herself. Sometimes she wanted to just feel all the great _vearth_ around her in quiet.

For weeks now, she’d been building this house, looking for the right kinds of branches and driftwood and all sorts of scraps, gathering vines and twining them, borrowing tools from Conis’ father… 

And now it was done, and it was _wonderful_. And she’d done it all by herself, too! Nobody else even knew where it was. You couldn’t even see it from the ground if you didn’t know it was there. (Probably.) 

Maybe she’d show it to Raki and Conis someday, though. Conis was okay, she probably wouldn’t laugh. Aisa wasn’t as sure about those two Skypiean kids her own age that she had started to play with at times. Mostly they were nice but sometimes they could be snotty and stupid. Maybe eventually… if they asked her _really_ nice. 

She supposed it wouldn’t last very long, not like the great city. If the storms tore it down, she could rebuild it... but not forever and ever. The treehouse was a _now_ thing. It was all new, and all hers.


	6. Remembrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally written for the prompt "Anniversary" at onepiece_300, this short genfic (slightly longer now) is rated G and features inhabitants of the Sakura Kingdom on Drum Island, which was once the Drum Kingdom. There's a new name and a new flag, but it takes more than that to hold a country together: perhaps this kind of thing might help.

On that day of the year, when twilight came everyone would put warm clothes on and gather in the street and the square, blowing out the lamps as they went. The shops and inns would close; a few select people would climb roofs and treetops while carrying special backpacks; and gradually, chatting and movement ceased and everyone waited as the sky grew dark, looking upwards.

The king didn't suggest it, nor did the old witch still living at the castle. It was ordinary citizens in different villages who’d thought it up, and they'd have gone through with it even without Dalton and Dr Kureha's co-operation.

In the town of Gyasta, where there lived a very good fiddler, he would raise his instrument and play a slow, sweet melody during those quiet minutes. But in the other towns, that wasn't done, the waiting taking place in utter silence. 

At seven o' clock, a single bell would chime in each town and village - and then, the big cannon sounded from the mountaintop. From roofs and treetops, the climbers scattered their burden. And so, to commemorate the day when the old tyrant had been defeated and the island was reborn, scraps of pink paper in the shape of cherry blossom petals fell down all over the kingdom.

Some would raise their hands and laugh, trying to catch as many 'petals' as they could, for luck. Others kept quiet, just looking on and sighing with content.

It wasn't the same as that one wondrous night - it could never be the same, they agreed. But it still felt like a miracle of beauty and healing, now hallowed by memory, turned into tradition.

Afterwards, everyone cheered; music broke out; people would hug each other and exchange small petal-shaped pastries. In mild weather, it was common to stay outside for a while, drinking rhum and eggnog; but most years it would be too cold for that. Then, everyone would go into the village inn instead, feeling happy to be alive and to live in this very acountry among all others.


	7. Shade and Sweet Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is an expanded ficlet first posted on onepiece_300 for the prompt "Summer". The pairing is Vivi/Kohza, and it's rated PG. (ETA: Admittedly, since I do think of Vivi as a Strawhat "in the reserves", as it were, this should perhaps have been put into my collection for shippy Strawhat ficlets instead, "I Got Ideas". But I'm letting it be here for now.) 
> 
> Spoilers/setting: Set at least a month after the fall of Crocodile, and quite possibly a lot longer. (I’m not sure what season the Strawhats were in Alabasta, given that their drought was unnatural.) 
> 
> I nicked the title from the old "Elfquest" comic, where it is the greeting term for a tribe of desert-dwelling elves; I felt it was suitable for Alabastans as well.

By now, the shift in the weather was clear. The warm, humid days of spring, bearable even in the noon hours, were giving way to the dry, scorching hot of an Alabastan summer. But though the subsoil water levels were still a lot lower than they used to be, there was still a lot of rain water saved; there were spots of green around waterholes, and people were facing the dry season with hope and a resolute good cheer rather than dread. 

“How are your wounds?” Dressed in ordinary traveller clothes, Vivi sat down on the fallen palm tree next to Kohza. 

“Tch. I think I’m officially well by now,” he said, spreading out his fingers. “Worked all day digging wells yesterday and was just fine by evening.” He smiled crookedly, but there was a real tone of contentment in his voice.

Vivi chuckled. “Those new hot springs of your uncle’s made the trick, I bet.” 

Kohza shrugged. “Heh. Maybe.” He handed her the flask of cold tea by this side; she took it with a nod.

They were silent for a while, the air trembling with heat around them. 

He wondered if he should ask how her pirates were doing, but decided against it. The last time she’d had news of them, it wasn’t good. Maybe the World Government’s information couldn’t be trusted when it came to outlaws, but he still didn’t want to bring it up if she didn’t.

Kohza felt there were some things a former rebel leader could say, which had a greater weight coming from him. But there were also things he shouldn’t say, lest he re-open old wounds of his war-torn country. Things like insisting royalty and commoners should be on a more equal footing, for instance. His motivations were suspect, too: maybe he only had those views because he’d like to tuck a strand of blue hair behind Vivi’s ear, to trace the line of her cheek, lean in close and kiss her neck, without feeling like an opportunistic and power-hungry social climber.

“Leader...” she said slowly.

“Mmhm?”

“It’s getting too hot,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’m dizzy.”

He blinked. “Oh. Yeah. Really _is_ summer now, huh?” It was true, even this spot, the shade of the northern hillside, was getting too warm for comfort. “Want to go home?” To the old man’s watchful eyes, alas.

“That might be good, or...” Vivi looked down, twiddling her thumbs. “...My tent’s cool enough,” she said quietly, almost under her breath. Maybe there was a flush of red on her cheeks. 

Someday, he thought, he’d like to tell her that she’s like the rain to him. Someday – not now. Not yet.

But summer was coming, and maybe you should take your shade where you could get it – accept it gratefully, like drinking fresh water out of cupped hands. So he followed her through the noon heat, then ducking under the flap of the tent to step into the lovely, cool darkness.


	8. Bubbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This G-rated gen fic features Caimie (plus Hachi and Shakky). Originally prompt was "Rainbow" for onepiece-300.
> 
> Spoilers/setting: Set almost any time between chapter 514 and chapter 594. Light spoiler for Chapter 594.

After the rain was over, Caimie left Thousand Sunny's galley along with Hachi and Shakky: they walked, while she flopped on her tail, but they all went down to the lawn deck and looked out at the nearest grove. 

"It always looks so good after the rain, doesn't it? This old mangrove dump..." Shakky blew out smoke tranquilly, the ghost of a wry smile on her face for a second before it fled. "So very pretty... But underneath it all, rotten and ugly." Her voice was calm and controlled, showing little emotion.

 _But this is your home_ , Caimie thought to herself. _You shouldn't talk like that about your own island._ She stared at the railing, gripping it harder. Said nothing.

Hacchin looked uncomfortable, but didn't exactly disagree with Shakky-chin. Instead he just scratched his head and mumbled that nyuu, he kinda figured the biggest problem was with the World Nobles. If only they weren't around on the Archipelago, then maybe the decent people living there would start to change things for the better. 

Caimie glanced at his troubled face above so many bandages, then looked away. She didn't want to talk about that kind of thing, and she wished that he and Shakky-chin wouldn't. She didn't want to think about explosive collars and huge fish bowls in auction houses, about why you shouldn't ride the Ferris wheel when you have a tail. She didn't want to keep thinking about Hacchin getting shot, or of full-force Marine assaults; or her friends and rescuers getting driven away, beaten and scattered. It was too hard and sad and cold.

She knew she was only a silly mermaid with silly dreams, who might never be able to repay her debt.

But she also thought to herself, _It's not all rotten. It's not. Yes, riding the wheel is dangerous, the way things are right now. But that's not the Ferris wheel's fault._

She leaned her chin in the palm of her hand. Then her eyes widened as she saw a rainbow reflected in hundreds ofSabaody bubbles. They all rose slowly from the mossy ground to slowly tumble in the air, shimmering with light and bright colours until they rose higher than the ship, and popped. The air was fresh and cool, and the mangrove trees smelled so good.

There was, perhaps, a tiny smile on her face right then. Because you couldn't capture a rainbow.


	9. Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First written for the prompt "Present" on onepiece_300, this one features Garp's first meeting with Ace (speculation ahoy, plus spoilers for backstory first revealed in the Marineford arc). Gen, rated G.
> 
> I do wonder where exactly Ace's birth took place, and what happened to him in the immediate aftermath...

The midwife presented him with a tiny package, wrapped in a blanket.

"His name is Ace," she murmured. "She was able to name him, and to feed him just the once, before the end." She looked pale and stricken; she'd been a friend of Rouge. "But he'll soon get hungry again."

"I know," said Garp gruffly. "I've had a sprog like this of my own." He looked down at the sleeping baby, the tiny freckles and a tuft of wavy black hair on his forehead. With luck, Garp would be the only one ever searching for the father's likeness in this face.

"Hello there, Ace," he said. "I'm Garp. I'm going to be your grandpa from now on."

The baby opened its eyes and stared at him with round brown eyes. Garp smiled and reached out a finger as a greeting.

He wondered sometimes if Dragon would ever give him a grandchild: if he did, would he even let Garp meet that child? Maybe Ace was the only second chance there would ever be.

Ace now grabbed his finger and held onto it tightly; Garp felt his face break up into a huge mushy grin. The midwife took the opportunity to carefully shift the baby into Garp's arms, without breaking its hold on his new grandpa.

"You're gonna grow up to be a strong Marine one day, right?" said Garp. "Right!" he decided, beaming. 

He'd come here to fulfil an obligation, a promise to a condemned man. But when you had a child right there in your arms, feeling the quick beat of its heart, you couldn't really think that way. Not when you were Monkey D. Garp.

"Well then," he said to little Gol D. Ace, starting to walk the path into town, "let's see about getting you a nursemaid."


	10. Fanboys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not much of a story - just Coby and Helmeppo, hanging out. I may be getting some of the Marine ranks wrong. Takes place at some unspecified time not long after the Marineford arc, before the leadership upheaval in the top ranks had happened. Originally written for a chaos thread to the prompt "Fanboys" - I couldn't think of a better title myself. As always, concrit happily accepted. Gen, rated G.

“Thank you very much, Sir!” Coby saluted smartly and rolled up the signed poster to put under his arm with the others, then made his way through the crowd of Marines. It wasn’t actually all that easy to spot the celebrities in the throng of soldiers, here at Mariejoa during the big Summit; but if you kept your eyes open and were fast on your feet, you could still be lucky.

He spotted Helmeppo sitting at the foot of a stone statue and made his way over. His friend was having a cigarette and smiled contently, a pile of folded-up posters and photos next to him.

“Hiya,” said Coby sitting down. “How did you do?”

Helmeppo nodded at him, touching his sunglasses as a greeting that was probably meant to look as cool as possible, though the huge grin underneath it spoiled the effect.

“Terrific. I really lucked out today.” He patted the pile next to him proudly. “Good thing the old man’s so damn popular. Those exclusive photos I had of him went a pretty long way. I got Commander Hina – got her autograph, too, I’ll have you know – a new pic of Aokiji, much better than the old one; an even better one of Kizaru looking real bad ass, aaand…” He made a dramatic pause, then continued, in a reverently triumphant tone, “And I got Boa freaking Hancock!”

Coby frowned at the last one. “I wish you hadn’t,” he muttered. “I don’t think I like her much. Heard too many bad things about her.”

“From jealous idiots, I bet,” said Helmeppo dismissively. “Anyway, I don’t really care. The Vice Admirals, sure, I’ve got posters of them for inspiration.” By ‘Vice Admirals’ he only meant Aokiji and Kizaru, these days. Helmeppo had loyally torn down his Akainu poster after Akainu had tried to kill Coby. “But Hina and Hancock are hotties,” Helmeppo continued. “A pure awesome goddess of a hottie, in the latter case.” He sighed dreamily, looking down on the poster in his hand again. 

Coby huffed. “I don’t mind Commander Hina,” he said. “She’s pretty cool. But Boa’s a pirate, and pretty nasty, too! She nearly turned Commander Momonga into stone, you know. And she broke Commander Smoker’s jitte at Marineford.” Secretly he wouldn’t have minded putting up an enlarged photo of Smoker’s aide Tashigi in their room – but he knew that admitting he thought she was kind of cute would expose him to merciless teasing.

“Eh, they probably deserved it, being rude to her or something,” said Helmeppo. “Anyway, so what did you get?”

Coby gave him a bright smile. “Autographed photo of Momonga. Big photo of Smoker – I still haven’t managed to actually meet him. And also…” he unrolled the most recent poster, “…this one. It’s Commander T-bone.”

“GAAH!” squawked Helmeppo, shying back. “He – it – that’s hideous!” He took off his glasses, glaring at Coby. “You’re _not_ putting that one up in our room.”

“He does look a bit startling,” Coby conceded, giving the poster a judicious look, “but he seems like a really great guy. You’ve heard the way his men talked about him at dinner last night, right? And just now he kept tearing up his coat to help some lady who had sprained her ankle.”

“So what?” snapped Helmeppo.

“So, I think by putting up his poster it will serve to remind me to look beyond the surface of people!” said Coby. “Plus, he genuinely is a hero.”

“I don’t care! He looks like death warmed over! There’s no way I’m looking at that face every morning.”

Coby shrugged. “I’ll put it in another corner, so you won’t have to.” He unfolded the newspaper he’d bought before, for his own money. They still had a while to go before they had to meet up with Garp once the first part of the big summit was over.

Helmeppo groaned mightily. “It’s still hideous! Here I bring sweet visions of beauty, and what do I see in return?” He gave Coby a smack on the shoulder. “You’re such a dork. Can’t you just go for the hotties and the guys at the top like everyone else?”

“What’s the point of being like everyone else?” mumbled Coby, eyeing through the paper idly. 

Helmeppo gave him a long look. “Weelll… easier to get by in your career, for one thing,” he said. “Stick out too much and you might get the wrong kind of attention. You should know that.”

Coby couldn’t think of what to say, so he buried himself in the paper. Then he bounced to his feet.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, pointing at the short article on page 8. “Look at this! It says Luffy has been spotted on a ship heading in a direction towards Sabaody!” He laughed with relief, then smacked a fist into his palm. “Hah! I _knew_ he wouldn’t just die from his injuries like that! No way!” 

Helmeppo only groaned. “See, this is exactly what I’m talking about! And you’ve got some nerve talking about Boa Hancock being a pirate. At least she’s on _our_ side as a Shichibukai! You’re the one who keeps a bounty picture of that stupid Strawhat on the best damn spot on the wall, in pristine condition to boot.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that!” protested Coby, sitting down again. “You know I mean to be strong enough to arrest him one day. He counts on me being able to do that! So it’s just natural I want to keep his bounty poster around to remind me.”

Helmeppo looked sceptical. “Weeelll, it’s a good line, I’ll give you that,” he conceded. “But you didn’t have to go and get _two_ of his bounty posters. That’s just going way overboard. And it’s suspicious,” he added, barely loud enough for Coby to hear him.

“Well, I wasn’t the one who drew a moustache or threw darts on the old poster,” Coby pointed out.

Helmeppo flushed. “Nothing wrong with that! He’s a damn pirate!” 

They kept arguing for a good while, even though they both knew the end would be a compromise where both of them held on to all their respective posters and photos, including the one with Commander T-bone. Eventually they were approached by two snub-nosed recruits, who asked for stories about Garp, for a look at Rokushiki and Soru in action – and for _their_ autographs. 

Helmeppo was only too happy to oblige. Coby felt proud and surprised to be asked, too, his cheeks pink from the unforeseen attention. But when he handed the autograph block back, his gaze met Helmeppo’s. _Better get used to this_ , his best friend’s look said, _if you’re heading where you’re aiming for._

Coby gave an embarrassed laugh, scratching the back of his neck. But deep within his mind another part of him thought, calmly, _Yep. I guess I really will have to do that_.


	11. One Hour Left To Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally written for the prompt "Final Hour" on onepiece-300, this piece has been subsequently expanded and polished up, aided by helpful beta from Tonko. It features characters from the pasts of different Strawhats (not all of them, though), going into some speculation re what they might have thought one hour before dying. No post-timeskip spoilers. Rated G or maybe PG for implied death.

*

It's an ordinary morning. The pale sunlight streaks in on the lawn outside the dojo, the mists starting to clear from the hillside. In the trees, blackbirds are singing. Kuina wipes the sweat away and starts on yet another kata. The bamboo practice sword feels light in her hands. 

Soon, it will be time to go up into the house for breakfast. But she figures she can fit in a couple more forms before that. 

*  
Hiruluk stuffs the bombs and the explosive liquid inside his coat, then buttons it carefully. He can feel the mushroom's poison spread through his weak, decaying body, yet he feels calm and at ease. One hour or two weeks, what does it matter? The miracle powder exists, now. And Kureha will take care of the boy.

"To the castle," he whispers, setting off with laboured haste in the deep snow. 

*

Bellemere starts chopping up meat for dinner, her calm returning after the blow-up with Nami. It will be all right. Nojiko will bring her sister back, and Bellemere can apologise for losing her temper. Next time around, she'll try hard to be more patient, more like a proper parent.

Dinner will be frugal again, but still tasty and nourishing enough. The girls will probably like it. She lights up the stove and another cigarette with a match, humming slightly as she starts to peel tangerines for a sauce. This is going to taste just great. 

*

Tom walks on his own two feet through Justice Island, not letting them drag him by the chains. He strides through the big hall they shove him into, right up to where a fool of a three-headed judge is sitting. The ridiculous creature insists on pronouncing "judgment", even though the sentence has already been decided. Tom just laughs him away. 

Why bother? As if they could truly hurt him. His treasures are safe, back home.

*

It can't be long, now.

Outside, she can hear her son shouting desperate lies as he runs up to the house. Banchina struggles for air, fights with what little strength she still has in order to find the right words, the good words; the ones that most need saying.

_May he never grow bitter._ A current deep within her, tugging and tugging, hard to resist. Warm sunlight through the window. No time for regret. 

*

She starts running as soon as her feet touch the ground. There's just no time to rest on the native soil, no time to stop and greet people properly. And she knows she'd be doing Robin no favours at all by seeking her out. As long as no-one knows who she is, her girl will be safe as a civilian, a part of her brother's family.

But death and destruction threaten all the scholars as they do Nico Olvia herself, following close on her heel. It's her own fault. She brought them here. She gasps for breath as she runs towards the Tree of Knowledge, praying she will manage to make everyone listen, that there will be enough time for them to escape this beloved place. There may be an hour or so left, she calculates. They might just be able to make it.

*  
It's too early for relief, she knows that. There's no land in sight, and she will not last for much longer: try as she might, pure will can't hold a battered ship with a broken keel together. The wood creaks and nails loosen for every new wave. 

But they have finally left the smoke clouds of war behind, and the great array of battleships no longer thunder and threaten. The sea is peaceful, the sky sunny. No longer does the ship have to focus on trying to navigate alone, a difficult task indeed; now, _her_ navigator is back at the helm, guiding her like no-one else can. Her captain and the whole of her crew is here, gathered in safely. 

Too early for relief. But not too early for happiness.

She recalls a shout, or maybe it was just an intention she'd sensed: that skilful man who managed to patch her up for this last journey meant to follow her, didn't he? Wounded though he was. If so, his ship will meet them soon, and they will be all right even though the city is still a fair way off. Her captain never stops hoping, and she won't do it either. They'll be all right, soon enough. And she will be able to let go. 

 

*

He always knew it could end this way, with the wood of the execution platform under him, the two crossed blades in front of him, waiting for the order to rise and strike. When you went out to sea seeking fame and freedom, raising a Jolly Roger to proclaim you obeyed no law, then you had to accept this as a possible consequence. And his life had been his own to risk.

But to drag them all down with him, to be forced to see all of them like that – Pops, Luffy, everyone, fighting, bleeding, even dying just trying to rescue him – no, _that_ he had never counted on.

He'd never counted on being loved this much.

And yet, they won't listen to him. To keep railing at them, to keep despairing would mean disrespecting their choice. He understands that now, at the last.

He straightens and holds himself upright, waiting for whatever fate will come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: For a while I called this one just "One Hour Left" after adding the Merry section, since Merry never breathed as such. But I changed it back now because I like it better this way even so.


	12. Get Out While You Still Can

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: This is a Sabo-centric gen fic that was originally written for the challenge comm for the prompt "Seize". onepiece-300. I rated it PG there, for implied violence. Spoilers up to and including chapter 587. NOTE: previously posted as a single post on AO3, but I decided to put it here instead and delete the original post, seeing as it's so short.

Sabo couldn't stand hands grabbing him, tight clothes restraining him, houses closing in on him; making his future look narrow and cold. _Grab the moment. Get away while you still can._ He ran, and ran, and ran. To the Grey Terminal, to the wild mountains beyond.

Ace was fierce and suspicious but he never made people do something they didn't want. He was free and strong and proof that kids could be tough enough to survive. They soon became partners in crime; then, eventually, friends. And then, after Luffy turned up, they made themselves brothers. A real family.

Fear, nausea and despair clutched him tightly on that horrible day after he'd found out the town nobles' plans for the Grey Terminal, vainly running around trying to stop it; to warn his brothers and everyone else. It was hard to breathe. 

He realised he couldn't ever stay here in his father's house, no matter what. Maybe he _could_ have borne it, if it was just him becoming small, hemmed-in and miserable - but no, they wanted him to be like _them_ , all twisted and poisonous inside. Treating other people like they were worth nothing.

He had to believe Ace and Luffy had survived. But Sabo couldn't get to them anymore. His father's arms were too long, reaching everywhere on this island; iron bars and burned bodies and the smell of rot were in the way. Already the bars were closing in, again. Sabo had to get out.

He managed to slip through the cracks one more time, then stole a fishing boat. _Go_ , his heart told him. _Now, before it's too late. You know you can't stay here. Go. Go. Go._ But he wasn't afraid, only excited and relieved.

He raised the flag that he'd made and set off, hope singing.


	13. Roll The Dice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paulie-centric gen first written for the prompt "Sin" on the onepiece-300 comm. May take place post-timeskip, but it's pretty vague, and there are no spoilers. Rated G on LJ.

He's got it good, these days. There's no island in the world he'd rather live on than Water 7, no company he'd rather work for than Galley-La; no boss he'd want to follow but Iceburg. 

Paulie is exactly where he wants to be, doing what he wants to. He's damn lucky, and he knows it. 

But that's got nothing to do with it. People don't get that. That has nothing to do with why he'll perk up at the sound of rolling dice, the shuffle of a deck of cards; why he can't resist taking a bet – any old bet – in his daily life; why his feet keep taking him to gambling joints once work is over.

When you send those dice spinning, lay your cards down; when the game is in motion, there's a special magic like nothing else. It's like hearing Luck itself, all sharp-edged and shiny, spinning on edge just for you; like feeling a door of sheer opportunity open. Knowing you might just get to fly on the wind of fortune as it blows your way at last, beating the odds to glorious triumph. 

And it's just plain fun. Oh, losing isn't fun, and he does that a lot. But being in the moment, riding the thrill – nothing can beat that. 

Of course, it can be dangerous too – destructive, if you're careless. He's seen that before. Still, he's managed to hold up so far, and has sworn to never let it hurt anyone else. 

Deep inside him, Paulie believes that chasing the thrill somehow even protects his current happiness. It's his one remaining sin, these days: without it, everything would be _too_ good. Too perfect. No telling what might happen then.

Only way not to risk losing it all is to keep playing.


	14. Soot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I first wrote this ficlet for the prompt "Fire" on onepiece-300 (it was my second time writing for that prompt); later I expanded it to 433 words. 
> 
> It's set after the first 10 or so pages of chapter 589. Featuring Dadan and Makino, it's rated PG for mention of canon violence. No pairings, only the unlikely friendship of bandit leader and innkeeper.

It took Dadan over a year to stop twitching and inwardly flinching in the present of big fires; in the beginning, she was even wary around small household flames. Of course it bugged her, and she did her best to hide it - bandits weren't supposed to be squeamish. Even Luffy and Ace, grief-struck as they were, didn't seem to feel that way.

It was less the heat, flames and pain that would come back in her mind than the smoke and the terrible smell, the soot and charred remains, the lack of air... And the _knowing_ of it all, even though she'd seen many more injustices, even though she had few illusions about the fairness of the world or of those who ruled it. She was an outlaw who could only expect a summary execution if captured, and that was the law all over on all sorts of islands, as she understood it.

Yet the Gray Terminal Fire still pressed down on her chest in those moments when she looked at the fire too closely. To know for sure that the rulers of this island would slaughter their own subjects purely for being an embarrassment, for living on the garbage the rulers themselves had thrown out... In her darker moments it made her feel as if the whole land around her were nothing but soot and ashes, with soot stains on the souls of all the surviving adults with it, who had to compromise to survive.

Makino came over one chilly day when Dadan had let the fire die out. She didn't say much, just knelt down and made a new one, then put a kettle on it for tea. Embarrassed, Dadan moved closer to the hearth to warm up, then forced herself to look into it. 

The smoke and the smell and the ashes returned again, but now Makino was taking Dadan's hands in hers, holding them close, warming them. Slowly the memories retreated far into the fire: not disappearing entirely, just not as much _there_ right then. The smell of tea leaves started to fill the air.

"...Thanks," muttered Dadan after taking one deep shuddering breath, thankful no-one else was around. Her hands stopped trembling. Makino let go, smiled, but didn't say anything. Instead she just poured them both tea without comment. They drank it slowly. Outside, in the gray-green woods, a gentle spring rain had started to fall. 

Dadan held on to the new calm inside her, the fragile balance that was helped by Makino's quiet presence beside her, trying to remember that fires could be like this, too.


	15. Sabaody Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt "Hurt/Comfort" at onepiece-300. Hachi/Caimie, rated PG for dark themes (from canon).
> 
> Spoilers/setting: Set at Sabaody not long after chapter 513: **however** , it also alludes to parts of Hachi's past that were revealed to the readers later, in the Fishman Island arc.

She tries hard, but Caimie just isn't strong enough to support Hachi's weight, especially not on land; so in the days after the slave auction and the Strawhats' scattering, he has to rely on Shakky or Rayleigh to help him get around, or stay put. But Caimie still spends most of the day helping; changing his bandages, helping him eat and wash, getting things for him while tail-hopping around the house. Whenever he tries to make her stop she looks so unhappy he gives up; and truth is, her presence _is_ calming to him.

But he's no longer simply the happy takoyaki seller. She knows what kind of things he's done, now. Hachi wonders if he even has the right to be friends with someone like her. 

He knows she gets nightmares. One time, he asks her about them. She flinches, then looks down.  
"I…I feel so dumb," she mumbles. "It was just a few hours, when I was caught. I wasn't even _hurt_. Like you. And the others. I shouldn't have  nightmares like that." Her voice sinks down, almost inaudible.

"Nyuu…" He's always been clumsy with words. But he tries. "Hours… hours can be like years sometimes, the way they hit you." He looks straight at Caimie. "They were _selling_ you. I've freed slaves. I've…" his voice grows thick; he forces out the words, "helped enslave someone. Don't say it didn't hurt you."

She swallows sharply. "O-okay." Her voice is still shaky.

"Anyway, nyu…" He twiddles his thumbs. "If you have another nightmare, you can wake me up, or sleep in my room, won't bother me."

Caimie smiles, a small but genuine smile. "Okay."

Soon, she curls up with him on those bad nights, light and soft and always careful not to jostle his wounds. It helps keep the insomnia away.


	16. Like A Second Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaku-centric ficlet originally posted at onepiece-300 and written for the prompt "Two-Faced". Set after the CP 9 cover page story ends. Rated G.

Not all undercover agents approach their work the same way, and Kaku's still quite young. But he already knows that when it comes to him, he does his best work when he can genuinely like whoever he pretends to be. 

And never more so than in Water 7, where he was for so long. It all rather grew on him: his own keen, neat, and honest workman persona; his boss and co-workers at Galley-La; his tasks and habits; the people, the city itself... It was fake, it was pretence, and he threw it all away instantly at the end once the right moment came, secretly relieved he could do so without hesitation. He never forgot his purpose, not even for a second. 

Yet he liked it all well enough while it lasted. He even let himself bask at times in the pleasure of being Kaku the uncomplicated shipwright.

That feels a long time ago, now. The Government that he did this all for has rejected him and his comrades, seeking their arrest. Yet there's no way for them to live as simply peaceful civilians. Their training, their past work, even their very nature makes that choice impossible. Besides, the World Government may still change its mind one day: if Spandam falls, it's possible they might get pardoned, Kaku believes. Meanwhile they stay here, hidden on a secret island where they train new recruits they've found – building for the future, as they must. There will always be a need for people like them.

But sometimes, there is also a need for repairs on their island, or for constructions. He's always the first one to volunteer then, his smile bright and keen. His hands feel happy to hold hammer and saw and wrench once more; to briefly be useful in a different way than usual. He hums a little while he works, whistles even. And tells himself he does not miss that distant city of canals he can never go back to.


	17. In Our Footsteps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First posted at onepiece-300 for the prompt "AU". I chose to make it a rather simple and limited what if-AU where there's only one real change to start with - someone living on who died in a canon backstory. The rating is G. Spoils some things learned in flashbacks in the Marineford War, and is in any case much easier to understand if you've read that arc.

Portgas D. Ace, now a Whitebeard Pirate for real, wandered over to where his former first mate was sitting in a quiet corner of the festive ship, holding a solitary bottle. 

"So. What are you going to do?" he asked, sitting down beside her.

Kuina looked down at her sword, Wado Ichimonji. She ran one hand up and down the sheath, taking her time to answer.

"Well..." she said slowly, "I can see now that Whitebeard really is a great man. I'm glad you've stopped trying to kill him, but..." She paused. "He's not the captain I chose to follow."

Ace only nodded quietly, the faint breeze messing up his wavy hair. He looked much more at peace than she was used to seeing him.

"I can't decide what to do," she muttered "It's bothering me." Her fingers trailed the end of the scar Mihawk had given her, stopping right under her collarbone. "Don't tell this to anyone else, Captain, but... I feel like I should have come so much farther by now. That boy I told you about, younger than me... he's coming up after me, he'll get to the Grand Line eventually. I don't want to disappoint him." She sighed heavily. "But I don't _really_ feel like leaving, either."

Ace smiled. "You know, I've wondered much the same thing recently, about what Luffy will think," he said. "But not anymore. Because I'm sure now."

"I guess we both have little brothers of sorts," she said thoughtfully. Then she suddenly grinned. "...Bet mine's dumber than yours."

He laughed. "Deal. But I'm pretty sure I'll win that bet."

She drank from her bottle, then handed it to him. "I wouldn't even be a pirate if it wasn't for you," she said quietly.

"I know."

"I hate not being sure," she blurted out.

He chuckled at that. "I know." And didn't press her anymore.

She knew she needed more time to decide. Or to find whatever excuse she needed in order to be fine with staying on. 

They finished the bottle together in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The idea of Kuina joining the Spade Pirates was influenced by [this fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/262193) by Tonko. Though in that AU Ace was Luffy's _younger_ brother, Zoro died as a child, and many other things also differed from canon.)


	18. What Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Ace-centric ficlet, set in a divergent AU where the Marineford war ended more happily for the Whiteboard Pirates, though not as happy as it could have been: let’s say Blackbeard was delayed, and Shanks arrived about 15 minutes earlier. A fix-it ficlet, I suppose, but not devoid of angst. Originally written for the LJ challenge comm onepieceyaoi100. Rated G.

His feet seem so light as he returns to the fleet, as if hardly touching the deck. As if he’s as fleeting and light as a shadow.

( _Don’t think so much,_ Marco tells him, _just relax and be here with us. Let's watch the clouds and have one more drink._ )

Oars is dead, so many others are dead, but he’s not supposed to think about that. He’s not supposed to worry about Whitebeard’s wounds that don’t seem to get better as the days pass.

(They all worry, anyway, but nobody says anything.)

He does his job as well as he can, keeping everyone under his command tallied, helps relieving the shipdoctors of their other duties, sending out parties to get the crew more medicine. He takes care of stray Marine ships and foolhardy pirate challengers.

But he still feels light and shadowy. As if he’s not truly there.

Keeping watch one starry night, it's as if a great weight hits him and he sinks down on the planks of the crow’s nest, his hands gripping the railing tight. 

_What do I do now? What I am here for?_

Because he knows now: he set out to sea to see if he could be a person worthy of living. To see if anyone out in the great wide world could love him.

He got his answer. It’s the one he’d hoped for, but it still shakes him, knowing it for sure.

In these still, gray days, as the Whitebeard pirates huddle together to start healing, as the life of their Captain slowly leaks out through far too many wounds, Ace wonders what his goals should be now, and if he even still needs to be a pirate at all.


	19. Comes With The Territory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabo meets Garp: expanding and speculating on a brief glimpse from manga chapter 585.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally prompted and filled anonymously, now out in the open. Rated G. Very gen.

Dadan hadn't really been that hard to handle. Sabo had simply taken his cue from Ace and Luffy and did his very best Gray Terminal, putting as much confident cheek as he could muster into his face and speech. After all, when even crybaby Luffy wasn't afraid of her, the old bat couldn't be that bad, could she? And sure, she got mad and shouted but it was an accepting kind of mad. She was a bit like Ace in some ways, he thought.

But Monkey D. Garp... that was a different thing altogether. No use taking his cue from the other two with him, since both Luffy _and_ Ace (Ace!!) were frightened of him. In the past, Sabo had laughed at those tales of Ace's scary grandpa (who turned out to be Luffy's scary grandpa too, confusingly, even before they all became brothers). But that had been back when he'd lived in the relative safety of Gray Terminal, far away from mad Marine officers. 

He glanced nervously at his two brothers, both sporting brand new lumps on their heads and cowering away from the huge man standing in front of him. Sabo swallowed as he looked back up at Garp - he was just a little bigger than Dadan, but seemed to loom much larger. He tried to grin, but it wouldn't come out cheeky, only weak. 

"Ho there!" boomed Garp. "So you're the street hoodlum from the garbage town I've heard of, the one that's corrupted my oldest grandson? Ehh?" He grinned as he said it, his huge teeth glinting. Sabo took an involuntary step backwards. In a way he rather liked how Ace's grandpa put things, but... the Marine was so big and so close and his hands were very large and strong, and he kept smiling like that. 

"Hey, that's not really..." muttered Ace from his corner, frowning. But Sabo grabbed hold of his hat and got out, "Th-that's right!" in response. 

"Name's Sabo!" he went on, standing really straight, his arms crossed stiffly over his chest. "And I'm Ace's brother now! And Luffy's too!" There, he'd gotten it out. He exhaled, sweat all over his forehead.

"Oho? Rrreally now?" said Garp, a kind of weighing tone to his voice. At least he didn't seem angry, not yet.

"Yeah, really!" said Ace, who'd grabbed hold of his pipe and was standing beside Sabo now, still pale but glaring at his terrifying grandpa all the same. "We had a ceremony and everything."

"Yeah, that's right!" Luffy grinned as widely as Garp at that, forgetting the lump he'd just cried over.

"You don't say." Garp looked down at Sabo again, consideringly. Man, did he have to _glint_ so much? Sabo had no idea what else to say, but he could tell Something Not Very Good was afoot.  


"So you're now the brother of both my grandkids," he mused, then suddenly grinned _really_ large and scarily in his white beard. "Think you're ready to handle a new grandpa, too?"

Sabo's throat went dry. Not looking at Ace and Luffy again, he very vividly recalled all their stories of horrible training they'd been put through. He opened his mouth, the words _Um, I'm not too sure it has to work that way_ on his tongue – after all, they certainly didn't share the same _father_ – but then froze. This was some kind of test, wasn't it?

Garp was scary. His training methods were painful and insane... but he was still Luffy's and Ace's Grandpa. Those two had him in common. And he was _strong_. Really strong - Sabo was already pretty damn sure Garp was stronger than anyone he'd met before. Stronger than Porphyry, stronger than Bluejam, stronger than any of the King's soldiers, anyone in his father's service...

He knew that Garp wasn't free the way a pirate captain was free, since he worked for the World Government. He would have orders from higher-up to follow. But he let Ace grow up here in secret, even so. Just because he wanted to. And he had the look of someone who wouldn't let anyone force him to do what he didn't want to do. The same look Ace had. Sabo wanted that; and he _really_ didn't want to be left behind while his brothers grew stronger...

So he shoved his fear aside and grinned mightily himself, as widely as he could. "Sounds good to me! I can handle you anytime, old Geezer-Gramps!" Then he tried to leap aside, but Garp was faster: one huge blow and he flew out the door of Dadan's house and across the clearing to land in a bush. 

He stumbled to his feet unsteadily, hat flown off and a new lump throbbing in his forehead, then turned around. All three of them were outside the house now: Ace and Luffy both seemed to be attacking their grandpa in retribution and trying to run the hell away from him at the same time, screaming loudly. Those idiots! What were they even _doing_?

Sabo ran to grab his own pipe and join in.


	20. Old Karma, Newkama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bon Clay gets the chance to get even with an old adversary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt "Served Cold" at a chaos thread I hosted, this shortfic from Bon Clay's POV contains spoilers for the Impel Down Arc and the cover page for chapter 666, plus various speculation and a new development that isn't fully explained in the story.
> 
> As always, constructive criticism very welcome! (I'm not quite sure of my word choice here and there, for instance.)
> 
> Disclaimer: the characters and situations of One Piece belong to Eiichiro Oda. They are used here without permission. Please don't repost without the writer's approval.

The guards didn't believe it when they found him out in the frozen wastes of Level 5, clad only in thin prisoner's clothes that had been bitten into, bereft of horns and wings and with seastone chains on his arms and legs... yet he was still an imposing presence for all that.

"Got to be a trick, Boss," said Rosa-chan, frowning in suspicion. 

His colleague Jack-chan nodded in accord. "No way has he displeased the higher-ups that much, he's far too useful," she agreed.

"Mm, yes, this is _quiiite_ puzzling," Bon Clay agreed, putting his head heavily to one side as he considered the mystery. "And if he ever did piss someone off that much, why not get rid of him altogether?" He started to spin around as he talked so he could focus better. But the other explanation was perhaps even odder. Surely Hannyabal must know that the former Chief Warden of Impel Down made a very poor choice for an infiltrator of Newkama Land?

Magellan scowled, leaning his chained arms on his shivering knees. "D-don't care what you lot think," he said through chittering teeth. "Didn't w-want to go here, even, j-just went for a stroll." Both Rosa-chan and Jack-chan rolled their eyes at this. "B-besides," Magellan added, "they might still need me again. S-some day."

"What did you even do, anyway?" asked Jack-chan. But Magellan just looked away and refused to answer.

"Can't think of a good lie, huh?" said Rosa-chan. "So what do we do, Boss? Turn him out?"

"He nearly killed you once, didn't he?" Jack-chan pointed out, looking at the chained figure darkly. "Doc said you got really mangled by his poisons, inside and out."

"Ah, yes..." said Bon Clay. "Speaking of that." He leaned down and tilted his head again, this time succeeding in catching Magellan's attention. "Since you're here now. How come you didn't kill me back then?" he asked curiously. "You had cause enough, after all. Aaaaand you seemed pretty ready to."

Magellan looked back, losing the scowl, just looking tired. "Yeah. I was going to," he said simply. "But I changed my mind."

"Why?"

"What would be the point? Disaster either way, with all those escapes and the slaughter on Level 6. And I'm not Shilyew." He exhaled slowly, voice ragged now. "Besides, why let a prisoner off that easily?"

"I see. How am _bi_ -guous." Bon Clay scratched his head - then grinned wolfishly for an instant. "You did _not_ give me an easy time, that's for sure!" He straightened up. "Rosa-chan, Jack-chan, does he have frostbite anywhere?"

The two guards shook their heads. Bon Clay rubbed his hands together, feeling light-headed. "All right! Put him in some thick furs, hide his face so folks won't panic, then take him over to the bar and get him a nice hot brandy or rum toddy. And some food while you're at it. Keep his chains on, of course. For now." He started to walk away from there.

"But..." Rosa-chan started to say, while Jack-chan just looked puzzled.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at, Bentham?" Magellan burst out. "I don't care what you do, you're not converting me to your side! I'll get a pardon yet!"

Bon Clay turned his head and winked at Magellan. "Isn't it _obvious_? This is _okama_ vengeance," he said brightly. "So of course that means it's the very best kind." He looked over at the two guards. "Just put him somewhere comfortable, dearies. Oh, and make sure he'll have a good view of my show." Then he was off pirouetting away towards the stage.

He smiled to himself, feeling good, as if a poison had been driven from his heart. Vengeance truly was best served cold.


	21. Why There Are Legends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tale told long before canon starts. Dreams are so vital for the characters we know of in this world, but what happens to them when the dreamers can't hack it? Here's one storyteller's take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally written for the prompt "Fairy Tale" in a chaos thread I hosted. The storyteller is an OC, the listener might almost as well be at this point in time. No spoilers.

"Do you know what happens to unachieved dreams? When dreamers die before reaching them, and there's nobody else willing or able to take on the mantle; or when dreamers give up on their dreams for real?

They don't just vanish. Not completely.

They pass from the dreamer's mind out into the air, where they rise and float and drift with the winds. Some of them simply stay there, unseen and unheard like songs that never get sung. Yet those silent notes hanging in the air still give extra resonance to all good musicians, who believe in the music they make.

Other abandoned dreams only ride with the winds as far as the sea. Then they gently sink down into the water, to float with waves and ocean streams just below the surface. Those, too, are invisible. Yet it's said that without them there the sea would never glitter so brightly in the sunlight."

"Really?" says the child, somewhat sceptically.

"Yes, really! Just because it might sound sappy doesn't mean it's not true, squirt. Anyway, it's also true that without them the waves wouldn't look quite as dark and gray nor roll as fiercely as they do in a storm. Abandoned dreams may carry anger as well as longing."

The old storyteller pauses at this point, pouring herself a cup of coffee and taking a long sip before going on.

"But that's not all they do. When they sense someone who believes fiercely in his or her dream and goes after it at full tilt, at least some of the unachieved dreams are attracted to that person and will start to follow them, and without the person knowing it the abandoned dreams being there will lend them strength and perseverance.

And as for truly exceptional people, those men and women of great stature, turned so quickly into legends...? The truth is that long before the world recognises them, long before they gain even one living, breathing follower, something about those people's souls - nobody knows exactly what - starts to attract many more unachieved dreams than usual. The more dreams that spin invisibly around someone, the more that person stands out to those that can look: their charisma strong, their heart sturdy, their determination great and exceptional and uncommonly successful. And the more ripples they make in the world due to this, the more other abandoned dreams notice them, starting to follow them in their turn. So it grows.

There are victories nobody could have expected; there are miraculous rescues and improbable outcomes. Because of the power not just in the living dreams pursued by these exceptional people, but in the abandoned dreams that surround them, hitching their ride to this fire and helping it grow.

Now, this makes it sound as if the dreams are always good and kind. Not so! Dreams can be dangerous, too. Even harmful. Some of those legendary people caused great destruction in the world, after all. I do not believe the unachieved dreams had nothing to do with that."

"And then what?"

"Then what? Then what, what?"

"What happens to the dreams in the end?"

"It is not known for sure. But I believe that if the one they follow finally reaches his or her cherished dream, the abandoned dreams, who have hitched themselves to this quest, are finally able to let go of this world and go to wherever ideas go. Maybe the very place we get new ones from. Who knows?"

"But what if the hero never gets there? What if she dies first? Or he?"

The old woman sips some more from her coffee and turns her palm upward, in a "whoever knows?" gesture. "Maybe just that there's one more unachieved dream in the world now. But I will say this: the more someone shines like that, the higher the chances of someone else adopting their dream. And then, if the hero dies with no regrets... that might make a difference too."

The child who's been listening frowns in concentration, then sighs a little, not knowing what to say. "Can you tell me a real story now, granny?"

The old woman laughs. "Always such a critic. Bring me my pipe and I'll think about it."

Little Kureha scurries away.


	22. Where Are You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Montblanc Norland and canon angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt "Where Are You?" in a chaos thread, this is another one of those where I was unable to think of a separate title. Spoilers for One Piece volume 31.

Ths island - what's left of it - feels deathly still and quiet. He can hear birds still singing and the myriad of jungle animals go about he lives, but it doesn't register. There are no people here.

He sees the remains of five dead bodies, three of whom he thinks he recognises, mostly from details of clothes and ornaments. Whatever happened here, he notes blankly, was probably at least a couple of weeks ago - though he knows bodies rot faster in hot and humid climates. He stops to bury them, his hand clumsy and faltering, receiving no help from his escort - though in fairness, he'd probably deny any help. His mind fumbles, can't recall the proper words and rites that he observed before, with those he'd been too late to save. Everything is incomprehensible. Nothing makes sense.

Nothing makes sense, nothing even feels real, even as his conscious thoughts are chasing uslessly, the same tracks over and over - _how could anything - what the hell could it be - (a volcano? an earthquake? but the evidence doesn't fit?) - are there seakings that eat islands?_ \- and thumping, thumping constantly in his head, when he can't scream it anymore through the emptiness that has swallowed him,

**_Where are you?_ **

**_Where are you?_ **

He paces back and forth, keeps looking for a lone survivor, for clues, for hints, ignoring the darkening looks and suspicious mutters of those who accompany him, even when they bring out chains. He knocks them back, uncaring, only wanting to keep searching one more time.

They finally seize him, attacking all at once when he's tossed off his coat and his shoes and is about to dive into the sea - _there should be **no sea** here_ \- they think he's trying to escape, those fools. He starts to argue with them - _anything_ , he tells them, I don't care what happens afterwards, you can bring out a long chain to my wrist if you like, just let me dive in there, damn you - but they don't hear him, don't trust him, can't understand. They think it's all lies, can't see that a whole world's gone missing and there is nothing so important as to find out what's happened to them.

_Where are you?_

They can't all be gone, can they? _How?_ The trees and earth and the giant snake; the friends and, and family - _Muus, Calgara!_ \- and their precious memories and dearly guarded relics of the past - their thoughts and minds and hopes, everything, everything. He was going to bring books and medicine for them, traded fairly for the gold they had no use for. How could it all be gone? It's impossible. And when the king's soldiers put him in chains and drag him onto the ship, he doesn't even hear their angry jeers or feel them manhandling and spitting on him. He's kept chained down in the hold sailing further and further away from the island he loves, and it's almost a blessing not to feel the sunlight on his skin, or the water glittering.


End file.
